


Defenestration Never Sounded So Good

by Oop



Series: Runs in the Family [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Poor attempts at humor, family fic, super cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oop/pseuds/Oop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Children have a special way of making one want to drown them at the same time one finds them hilarious. </p><p>This is Draco's thought when he walks downstairs to find his veritable tornado of a son streaking through the hallways, armed with a ketchup bottle in one hand and a mustard bottle in the other. Trails of vibrant red and bright yellow mark his path through the house, and, on the one hand, Draco wants to open the window and fling the child from it, and on the other he has to suppress a smile when he hears Scorpius' giggles of absolute glee. Whatever it is he's imagining is happening while he's actually ruining the carpet through the entire house, it amuses him greatly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defenestration Never Sounded So Good

Children have a special way of making one want to drown them at the same time one finds them hilarious. 

This is Draco's thought when he walks downstairs to find his veritable tornado of a son streaking through the hallways, armed with a ketchup bottle in one hand and a mustard bottle in the other. Trails of vibrant red and bright yellow mark his path through the house, and, on the one hand, Draco wants to open the window and fling the child from it, and on the other he has to suppress a smile when he hears Scorpius' giggles of absolute glee. Whatever it is he's imagining is happening while he's actually ruining the carpet through the entire house, it amuses him greatly.

However, when Draco comes down the stairs, Scorpius stops dead, terror on his face at Draco's (forced) scowl. "What," he asks his son sharply, "do you think you're doing?"

Scorpius smiles hugely, and then looks fretful again before finally settling on a look of confusion. "Being a unicorn," he says. 

Draco raises an eyebrow. How streaming ketchup and mustard all over the floor equates to being a unicorn is far beyond Draco, but Draco cannot very well let it slide. 

"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!" Astoria's voice rings from across the house in a way that makes even Draco flinch. Eyes still on the young boy, he sees the exact instant that tears spring to his eyes. Draco cannot blame him for that reaction, at least. Astoria may be a Malfoy by marriage, but the notoriousness of her temper, her cool anger, could fool nearly anyone. 

Still, Draco cannot see his son cry without offering some advice. "I suggest," he says, crouching down, "that you give me the remaining evidence and go and face your mother before she has to find you, and whatever you do, do as she tells you. No arguing." 

Scorpius looks up at him with wide, gray eyes that bleed betrayal. "Don't make me go, daddy," he says, lip trembling pathetically.

Draco looks at him sternly. "You chose to do this and you knew it was wrong. You must face the consequences. Do so bravely." Perhaps Draco isn't the poster boy for bravely accepting punishments, but he can at least use his past failures to teach his son how to behave honorably. Malfoys have not often bothered with honor in the past, but Draco knows exactly where that had gotten them, and not so long ago.

A tear escapes Scorpius' shimmering eyes, and Draco reaches out and brushes it away with his thumb. He should perhaps tell his son that his mother is not that scary, but he's not in the habit of blatantly lying to his family. Not anymore, at least.

"Go on. Better sooner than later," Draco says, tone reassuring. "And remember that, no matter how angry, she will always love you more than anything. We both will." 

Sniffling, Scorpius nods and hands the nearly empty bottles to Draco, who takes them with a nod, and turns to head back the way he came, already looking like a kicked puppy. When he learns how to make those expressions less genuinely, Draco and Astoria will be in trouble, but for now, they try not to go too easy on their son. The last thing they want is a clone of Draco in his teenaged years on their hands. 

As soon as Scorpius rounds the corner, Draco pulls out his wand and begins casting the most potent cleaning spells he knows on the carpet, thankfully getting it up before it can stain. He wishes he couldn't hear the severe scolding that Astoria gives Scorpius while he works his way across the room. 

The hardest part of parenting is this part, he thinks. Looking into his child's face, seeing the terror there as Draco or Astoria or both of them have to reprimand him. It really is that terror, seeing Scorpius afraid of anything at all – let alone of Draco himself – that hits Draco the hardest. He feels that he's felt enough terror in his life to be an expert on it, and he never wishes his son to feel it at all. He is fiercely protective of Scorpius, even if he tries not to let it show too often. So sending Scorpius into a situation in which Draco knows he's terrified makes Draco feel as if he's sending a lamb to slaughter. 

"I'm sorry, mummy!" he suddenly hears, and he can imagine Astoria accepting an apologetic hug, despite just moments before having stood with her arms crossed, imposing and awesome in her anger.

Draco stands, finishing his work with the carpet and surveying it carefully. He's pleased to see that there are no errant traces of a certain would-be unicorn. 

The furious pattering of bare feet from the hardwood hallway alerts Draco to the tornado's return, and he turns to face it head-on. 

Tears streaking his face, Scorpius darts into the room (tracking, to Draco's irritation, more ketchup and mustard onto the carpet from the hallway) and rushes straight to Draco, who crouches to embrace him, with arms outstretched. 

"I'm sorry, daddy! I know how h-hard you work for our nice h-house and I'm sorry!"

Draco smiles, stroking the back of his son's head soothingly, letting the tears soak the shoulder of his silk shirt even though he can't change it or he'll be late to work.

"Shh," Draco hushes. "I know you're sorry. Promise me you'll be more respectful from now on."

"I promise," Scorpius says into his shirt. 

"I'm very proud of you for being brave, and for apologizing," Draco says, because maybe if his own father had known half of the words in that sentence and had said them to Draco once in a while, before it was too late, things might have turned out much differently. 

Although his sniffles quickly fade, Draco continues to hold Scorpius until Astoria enters the room. When she sees the red and yellow footprints on the carpet that Draco had obviously already cleaned, she rolls her eyes, but she does so with a smile on her face. She watches them for a few moments with a look of tenderness that, in its way, reminds Draco of his mother. 

"Scorpius, your father has to go to work."

The boy pulls away and smiles at Draco. "Thanks, dad," he says in a whisper that's probably supposed to be conspiratorial but doesn't quite make it. 

"You're welcome," Draco says in an equally loud not-whisper. "I love you."

Scorpius suddenly leans forward and gives Draco a long, too-hard kiss on his cheek. "I love you, too, daddy," he says when he pulls away. "Have a good day at work."

"Okay. But only if you're good the rest of the day."

"I will be!" 

"Great. Now, let's see what we can do about that unicorn business," Draco says. He picks up the mustard bottle and transfigures it into a silvery wig, complete with a horn on the front. Scorpius' eyes widen with wonder, and he claps excitedly. As soon as Draco offers it to him, he snatches it and puts it on. Before he can run off, Draco transfigures the ketchup bottle into a matching tail with a clip and helps attach it to the back of Scorpius' trousers. Finally, Draco cleans the bottoms of Scorpius' feet (which makes him giggle delightedly) before letting him resume streaking through the house like the terror he is.

Astoria walks up to him. "You spoil him."

"Of course," Draco says with a smile as she hitches her thumbs into his belt loops in a most improper manner, pulling him close. 

"He adores you," she says, and Draco again answers, "Of course."

Astoria looks up at him, smiling in return, but with seriousness in her eyes. "I adore you. And if you say, 'Of course,' you will regret it."

"Is that so?" He lifts a hand to her face, brushing her cheekbone lightly with the pad of his thumb.

"Mmm," she affirms. "Just ask Scorpius how mean I can be."

"You know he adores you, too."

"Not nearly as much as his daddy."

"That's not true," Draco says, and he means it. "He just shows it in different ways."

"I know," Astoria says, and kisses him softly. "I'll see you tonight."

"Don't throw Scorpius out of the upstairs window before I come home. I want to help." She smiles, and it's the last thing Draco sees before he apparates out of the living room with a crack.


End file.
